


Undying

by Fierceawakening



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierceawakening/pseuds/Fierceawakening
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of Synthesis, Megatron's "This will be our last stand" got me all fired up for the Vehicons to finally have their day in the spotlight, defending their warship, their last piece of home, against the enemy invaders. </p><p>Instead we got nothing at all.</p><p>I wanted to fix that.</p><p>It's half almost-zombie story for Halloween, half alternate ending.</p><p>Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undying

They fled in a mass of metallic, glinting purple.

They moved together, in an odd synchrony. Lord Megatron had taught them that each one of them had a spark, unique and fierce and blazing bright. But in frame they were clones, one exactly like the next. They varied only in color or in alternate mode: some with wings and some without.

Now, fleeing from the place where their leader had fallen, some elbowed and shoved. But most moved in eerie, empty synchrony, a ragged echo of the phalanx they might once have been.

Until someone stopped.

They collided with her, two hitting her shoulders at once, jolting her from one side to the other so hard that she almost fell to the ground. She stared at them, her visor too bright, lit by the blaze of despair searing her processor.

"We have to go," one said gruffly. He was reluctant; every moment he spared for a comrade halved his chances of cramming his way into one of the last pods.

"What if we don’t?" she answered.

***

They followed her back, but none of them made the first move.

That was up to her, it seemed. Her idea, her hope, her risk, her doom.

She charged wildly at the enemy, her blaster firing and refiring so many times she could feel her fuel tanks depleting.

One of them rounded on her, of course, dripping with the glowing, life-giving fluid of the Omega Lock. 

He had nothing to fear; he’d just been shot dead and born again.

She nodded to the others, advancing anyway.

Still holding the blade that felled Megatron, he moved to meet her.

She did not even adopt a defensive stance. All she did was to pivot on one foot, twisting to face away from the blue phosphorescent pool in the second before the greatsword ran her through.

She had wings. She might have tried to fly to safety, to find a quiet corner to lie down and die in. Or to seek the last comrade near her who might know enough about repairs to seal so catastrophic a wound.

She let herself fall, her cloven spark sending arcs of lightning coursing over her frame as it began to gutter out.

Then everything was warmth and light.

***

She did not bother with awe at her own resurrection. 

She simply swam, grabbed at the lip of the pool — and then at the slender ankle of the scout who stood on the ledge, twisting hard until she saw him lose his footing and fall, the Star Saber still gripped in his hands.

One rebirth was enough; the clouds over the Earth swallowed him.

He had no wings; better for him if he had died right the first time.

She thought of waving.

It wasn’t necessary.

***

They leapt as they had run before, burying their enemies in a surge of purple and silver carapaces, the metal gleaming in the eerie light the pool gave off. 

The only thought they bothered to allow themselves was  _make sure you fall into the ring, not out of it._

There was pain, sharp and biting, the searing sting of a poison being lanced away. Death was fear leaving the body and replacing it with purpose, with fury, with all but the new-made spark’s fresh heat and light.

They came on and on and on, and there were hundreds.

Where one fell, another rose, an endless tide.

Anything that did not come from it was buried alive in it — and tossed from the life-giving ring around the Lock, to fall to the surface of Earth in all-consuming fire.

***

Only one of their enemies had wings.

And he knew what would forever hunt him.

He took to the sky, rising up and up.

They did not follow.

Someday they would. Someday they would finish what they had begun.

But not today.

Now they were a new thing, a will forged by one and set alight in countless bodies, each spark one tiny portion of its flame.

Now they would grow used to being born. And to being endless.

***

A streak of silver lit the sky, the path of a comet — or a star loosed from its fixed place in the Universe.

They watched it, and knew it for what it was, and let it go.

One small frame, sleeker and faster than any of theirs. Far too light and delicate to lift Megatron's body.

Whose spark had no doubt sputtered out already, leaving nothing to revive.

It would never work.

They did not need to share a mind to know it.

But they did not stop him, all the same.


End file.
